Foolish
by xoxfiresignx
Summary: OS "I grow tired of the foolish foolery of the foolish fools of this foolish country." She made as though to storm away, but he held her with a vice-like grip. "You said that to me once before," he muttered. "Back when we first met — do you remember?"


**Foolish**

_"I grow tired of the foolish foolery of the foolish fools of this foolish country." She made as though to storm away, but he held her with a vice-like grip. "You said that to me once before," he muttered. "Back when we first met — do you remember?"_

a.n.

This is set about a year after Ace Attorney Investigations. Phoenix has already lost his badge and adopted Trucy; Franziska has done several cases in conjuction with Interpol and is ready to finally return to Germany. I'm assuming that her final case was rather harrowing.

I'm generally a die-hair Phoenix/Maya shipper, but I was playing JFA (for about the ninth time), when I got the idea for this. Franziska says the line "I grow tired of the foolish foolery of the foolish fools of this foolish country" during case 2 when you press Gumshoe about 'point blank range'. This can be read as either a romance-ship, friend-ship, or rival-ship story, so choose your point of view and enjoy!

* * *

Her bags were packed and already checked, her iFly airlines plane ticket tucked safely away in her pocket. She observed the hustle and bustle of the airport with a cold, clinical detachment, letting her mind wander thousands of miles away as she stared at the ordinary people around her. Four seats away, a harried-looking mother was trying desperately to control three shrieking children while her husband sat uselessly beside her, chatting on his cell phone while covering his other ear to block out the noise his progeny produced. A red ball dropped from the hand of the smallest child and rolled over to where she sat. Without thinking, she picked it up.

"Hey, Missus." She looked up, startled, to see the tiny girl gazing at her anxiously. "Could I have my ball back?"

She looked from the ball to the child to the haggard woman and back again. "Only," she said, tossing the ball high in the air and catching it. "If you and your brothers sit down and be good little children." She girl's eyes widened and she ran to her screaming siblings, whispering urgently to them. Moments later, all three were perched politely in their seats. She stood up and paced in front of them, appraising their appearance. "Sit up straight," she ordered, her voice cracking like a whip.

Immediately, their backs straightened and their heads shot up. She smiled in approval. "Perfect." She tossed the ball back to the minuscule girl, who grinned and clutched the red rubber greedily to her chest.

She reached into her wallet and pulled out three ten dollar bills. The children's eyes shone like jewels as she waved the money before them. "Now," she coaxed, a sly look in her eyes. "If you promise to sit just like that, calmly and silently, as young children should sit, until your flight, I will give you each one of these."

"We promise, we promise!" they chorused excitedly.

"Excellent." She passed a bill to each of them, smiling at the looks of wonder on their juvenile faces.

"Thank you." She looked at the mother, who wore an expression of intense relief. "That was very kind."

"It was nothing," she responded, suddenly gruff. An almost-imperceptible tint of red appeared on her cheeks. "I enjoy children."

"Where are you headed?" the woman asked, pushing her mousy brown hair off her forehead, which shone slightly with sweat.

"I am returning to my home." Her voice was stiff.

"Oh? Where's that?" Both women glanced at the husband, who still sat nattering into his mobile.

"A place far superior to this," she replied vaguely, looking away from the man and staring into space. They stood in silence for a moment, then she reached into her wallet and removed all of her left-over cash. She shoved it into the mother's hands. "I have no more use for this currency. I do not intend to return. Perhaps you can put it to some good use." She turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving the woman sputtering in shock. She was right to be stunned — she had just been given over six hundred dollars in cash.

She found herself at a small coffee shop and settled into one of the small, circular tables. A waiter scurried over to her and she ordered a café au lait with a double shot of espresso. When it arrived in an elegant china cup with an elaborate design of green vines, along with a matching saucer, she took a delicate sip and let a sigh of pleasure escape her lips. If there was anything she would miss about this country, it was their wide variety of coffee available at even the smallest of restaurants.

She was so engrossed in the warm drink that she didn't notice when someone slipped into the seat across from hers until they spoke.

"Franziska von Karma."

She nearly dropped her mug in surprise. "You," she hissed, clinging to the cup as though it were a lifeline and gritting her teeth. "What are you doing here?"

The man didn't answer her question. "Where do you think you're going, Franziska?" he asked, a smirk playing across his lips.

She downed the rest of her coffee in one scalding gulp, slammed the last of her small change (an amount which added up to three times the cost of her beverage) down on the table, and stood to leave. Much to her chagrin, he followed her.

"I am returning to Germany." She darted through the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd, but to no avail: he matched her every step.

"Why bother?" he laughed, deftly sidestepping a young couple who seemed to be in the midst of a relationship-ending argument. "You'll be back in a month or so for another case."

"No, I will not." She could see her departure gate just ahead of her and quickened her pace. "I am not going to return." She dodged a familiar-looking security guard who was yelling, for no visible reason, about how she had once been a young woman in love with a bright future.

"Oh really?" The man reached out and grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards him just in time for her to avoid a luggage trolley that had rolled out of the control of its owner. She crashed into him, nearly sending them both toppling to the shiny tiles, but he held her up. "And why is that?"

She struggled out of his grasp and slapped his steadying hands away, ignoring the amused expression on his face. "Because," she snapped, smoothing her blouse. She was well aware that her composure was slipping, and the knowledge only served to annoy her further. "I grow tired of the foolish foolery of the foolish fools of this foolish country." She made as though to storm away, but his hand lashed out and latched again to her wrist, holding her with a vice-like grip.

"You said that to me once before," he muttered. His voice was quiet, but she heard it as clearly over the din of the terminal as though he'd shouted. "Back when we first met — do you remember? Gunpowder burns?" She _did_ remember — every detail of that fateful case, her first defeat, was branded in her memory — but the rough edge to his voice made her start to struggle again, anxious to break his grasp. "And yet, you keep coming back, again and again." She gave up on trying to wriggle out of his hold and instead reached for her belt and the weapon she had there. "And I know exactly why."

She managed to grab the handle and she swung it high. The whip cracked over him, harder than she had intended, forcing him to wince and release her. "And why is that, Mr. Phoenix Wright?" she half-shouted, brandishing the whip above her head, not entirely able to prevent her limbs from shaking.

"Revenge," he said simply, rubbing the place where she'd hit him. When she gave no reaction, he smirked. "You never got your revenge on Edgeworth." She snapped the whip again, purposely missing him by inches. "You never beat me, never managed to prove that you're better than him."

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks. "I no longer need to defeat you, Mr. Phoenix Wright!" she tittered triumphantly, wagging a condescending finger in his face. "You are no longer an attorney. Forging evidence . . . how far the might have fallen."

Her words did not wipe the smirk off his face, as she'd intended — instead, his look of smug self-confidence grew even more pronounced. "Like your father?"

Her breath hitched in her throat and she felt foolishly close to tears. "I will never return to this country. Never." She swung around and headed again towards the gate. This time it was his voice, rather than his hand, that stopped her.

"I'll get my badge back, Franziska," he called, making her pause. "And when I do, you'll come back. You won't be able to help yourself. Because you aren't perfect if you can't beat me." She didn't respond, didn't turn; she didn't even whip him. She just walked on, entered her gate, and boarded her plane.

But, twenty minutes later, as she reclined in her comfortable first-class iFly airlines seat, Phoenix' Wright's face came swimming into her mind. She thought of his self-satisfied smirk; his dark, intelligent eyes; his casual stance; that ridiculous blue beanie that flattened his spiky hair to less lethal proportions; and she ground her teeth together, gripping the armrests of her chair. She though of him and she knew he was right: she _would_ return, someday.

Phoenix Wright had not seen the last of Franziska von Karma.

* * *

a.n.

I've always wondered about how Franziska would react to HoboHoudo.  
XD


End file.
